


If Men were Angels

by Nocturnal_Leanings



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: (just one), Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Anxiety Attacks, Fluff, Gen, Light Angst, M/M, Magic, aaron burr is there for one moment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-11-21 17:34:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11362278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nocturnal_Leanings/pseuds/Nocturnal_Leanings
Summary: 5 times Alex surprised James and 1 time James surprised AlexORExpectation is a difficult thing - the Madilton Hogwarts remix.





	If Men were Angels

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AozoraNoShita](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AozoraNoShita/gifts).



THE TRAIN

I. SORTING

James Madison always knew what he should be. In accordance with the history of his Most Ancient House, he would be sent a Hogwarts letter at age eleven, be assigned into Ravenclaw upon his arrival at the ancient castle, spend the rest of his time networking with those peers most likely to be 'useful' or otherwise influential and staying at the very top of his class in at least half of the offered classes. 

The unforseen factor (the first, though not last in his life) of contracting Dragon Pox at a young age put a stop to most of the typical expectation that had precluded this unfortunate event. Even post survival his body was weak and sickly, and he was prone to many illnesses both muggle and magical. Until he was eight it was unknown if he could even have a magical core; and even beyond that point no-one expected him to have enough for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, one of the premier institutions for Witches and Wizards the Isles over. As soon as James had realised that his physical limitations resulted in lowered standards for him, he decided (in much the way of young children) that he would most certainly be attending Hogwarts, even if it killed him. 

And so he did. Sitting on the red train, his legs blanketed by bicorn wool cloth, woven and dyed into his Family colours, he enacted the second stage of his plan. Networking. He had never been good at it particularly, preferring his books and charts at home to attending pureblood parties for the fellow Heirs and Scions his age. Until now, he had no issue with that; it was a sure and encouraging sign of Ravenclaw tendencies. As it stood-

"Thomas, Thomas Jefferson, Heir to the Most Noble House of Jefferson. Have you seen a purebred, white furred kneazle around? My idiot cousin lost one, and really one must help out family, no?"

-now he had to make friends. 

"James Madison, Heir to the Most Ancient House of Madison. An honour, sir. As for the kneazle, have you attempted a locator charm?"

The tall ginger stiffened, his Received Pronunciation-inflected accent more aristocratic as a red blush slid over his cheekbones."

"Ah, sir, an honour to finally meet you. And having no map of the train, a locator charm seemed rather redundant-"

The second unforseen factor in his life flung the carriage door open all the way. The boy standing in the door was like the young Jefferson writ more vibrant. A good few inches shorter than the lanky boy, his hair was auburn, his eyes violet. His face was a little wider and his eyes more intense. He was stunning - until he opened his mouth. 

"Locator Charms aren't all ink and parchment based, you moron. Try one of the ones where the ambient temperature changes depending on closeness to the target. Or maybe, bother to ask the rest of us mudbloods."

The newcomer bared his teeth in an expression that was just a touch to aggressive to be a smile. 

"There are quite a few of us around you know. We may not be pure and mighty like you lot, but we do still have eyeballs."

At that, he withdrew as abruptly as he came, the slamming shut of the carriage door forcing Jefferson to stumble further inside and take a seat opposite James, who was still a little shellshocked. Soon enough though, he recovered his equilibrium. 

"Friend of yours?" He queried of the tall boy, crumpled in a fashion that could not be comfortable against the seats. 

"What, Hamilton? Merlin, no. Met him on the platform. Absolute psychopath if you ask me, blood aside - though honestly, he really is the worst kind of mudblood. So in love with his own heritage, despite it's inherent disadvantages." The taller boy mused on.

Later that night, James watched from the Ravenclaw table after Hamilton - Alexander Hamilton on the register - went into Slytherin, sitting next to one Aaron Burr. 

How interesting. 

 

II. THIRD YEAR

James' third year at Hogwarts began as the two previous had preceeded it. He spent time amongst those in his house - primarily Abigail Smith and Dolley Payne, both of whom he had worked into some small network of friends and acquaintances. He spent time with Thomas, who had gone into Slytherin and complained constantly about Hamilton and Burr throughout the entire year, though none so much as at the years' end, when Hamilton took top place in almost all the wanded subjects. He spent a great deal of time in the library, researching runic wards in the context of preservation charms and waiting for the return of the only dictionary the cross compared the western runes to eastern variants that seemed to have been removed on the first day of the year and not returned since. 

His comfortable routine was upset in early February. Someone had taken his table in the library. Normally James would have moved on from a set back like this; he wasn't one for confrontation and it really was too much effort to do so however this was no ordinary table. Sitting at it, James was illuminated from behind by sunlight dyed in colours from the stained glass window. He had a slight breeze coming from his left and had good sight of the librarians' desk on his right and ahead. The desk itself was solid mahogany and had several inbuilt draws that were exceptionally useful when hiding food from Madam Pince, who had no compunctions throwing students out if they defiled her books with crumbs - or, Morgana forbid, sauces of any kind. 

In short, it was the perfect place for James to work on his end-of-year Runes coursework which had eaten almost the entirety of his free time. And sitting in his seat, at his table, was a slim figure in emerald green robes. On closer inspection he was crunching on a sweet apple, uncaring of the juices that ran down his fingers down to his wrist, and perusing a fifteenth century manuscript on spell chains in melee battle.

He swallowed his outrage and marched over. This could not stand. The redheaded devil looked up and smiled up at him; a true one this time, his white teeth lodged safely behind the curled up lips. Before he could get the words out of a belaboured tongue, the Slytherin spoke, silvery accent curling around the words. 

"Madison."

He rolled the manuscript shut with an atypical care, one reserved for his books only. 

"I wanted to bring you a gift." He pulled an enormous leather bound book from his satchel - and that had to be magically expanded, surely - and dropped it upon the desk, now defiled with apple juice and scattered papers that were certainly not his. Those Hamilton swept lazily into his bag as with a half bow he waltzed away to his Gryffindor and Hufflepuff friends, Laurens and Lafayette.

He watched the swirl of colour retreat, gingerly seating himself before looking at the ominous tome. He did a quick diagnostic on the book before opening it, to protect against any (non-existent as it turned out) curses. The title page read 'Digby and Bavichev's Guide to cross-culutural runic behaviours and their uses'. James stiffened as he realised what it was. The book! The one he had been waiting on all year. A small smile crossed his lips, without his conscious control. A gift indeed. 

 

III. FIFTH YEAR

Hamilton reigned supreme at Wanded Magic, even into their OWL year. At Charms, Transfiguration, Defence he was almost unbeatable; his encyclopaedic knowledge of spells and his creative mind able to put them together into baffling combinations that had their teachers looking at him speculatively. He also somehow was good at Arithmancy, which infuriated Thomas to no end. 

How many things, the now six foot wizard had shouted, how many things can he be exceptional at? He's just a-. He cut himself off. Even Thomas Jefferson, it seemed, could learn. 

Even though Hamilton took Charms, Defence and Transfiguration, James still maintained second or third place in those, and took top spot in Runes, Divination, Muggle Studies (to every ones' surprise including his own) and Potions. Thomas took top in History, Arithmancy and Care of Magical Creatures and second or third in all the others, depending on the other two's position. 

Stirring his Draught of Forgetfulness under the gimlet eyes of his Slytherin partner - forbidden from doing more than hand James the ingredients after the fifth cauldron ruined - a loud bang from the other side of the class started him into nearly dropping the Augurey feathers into the cauldron too early. The Professor was standing in front of an unrepentant Hamilton, whose cauldron seemed to be smoking in a very ominous fashion. The bollocking he got was truly remarkable in its ferocity, though the volume was a touch too unmoderated. James gave it an 8/10. 

This happened fairly often. Hamilton would probably have taken the prime place in potions if he would just listen to what the teacher wanted. Instead, he got bored or he was dared or, worst of all, he got curious, and decided to make something entirely different and entirely experimental. This time however, it seemed Hamilton was listening with less focus on the teacher than his still steaming cauldron. The rising vapour was rainbow hued and where if floated up to the ceiling, the dark stone was cleaned and turned the pale grey it had been before how ever many centuries of potions accidents turned the entire place a miserable sludgey grey-brown. 

The professor, seeing that his student was ignoring him, settled for swanning away with a snap of his robes and a growled house point-deduction. Hamilton then did his most unexpected action to date, looking up to catch James' eye and he - winked. 

He ducked away, a surprised flush darkening his cheeks. Hamilton, he thought crossly, was obscenely attractive. It was entirely unfair. 

 

IV. GRADUATION

James stood outside the Great Hall in his dress robes, listening to the room full of chatter. He had taken Head Boy this year, owing to his slightly higher grades than Hamilton and Thomas (and, a small voice whispered, his not being in Slytherin. The War might be over but the aftershocks were still settling.) Having to make a speech, to encapsulate seven years no-one had thought he would get to have, it was making the bile at the back of his throat rise even higher. He still preferred reading to doing, drafting proposals to making speeches. 

"Madison? James?" The voice seemed to come from far away, the sound watery and muffled. He felt a strong hand take his arm and pull him to sit down inside the nearby broom cupboard. Pushed down onto an upturned bucket, uncomfortably warm hands rubbed his back and conjured him water as he breathed through the panic. As his vision cleared and his breathing calmed, he caught glimpses of autumnal hair. Shit. 

"Thanks." He choked out, rubbing his eyes. Could this get more embarrassing? "But can you. Leave." With Hamilton (Alexander, his mind whispered) here he couldn't think or consider. Even after achieving everything he had never been thought to be able to do - surpassed what even him totally healthy could have done, he couldn't handle this. Hot embarrassment streaked his cheeks pink and wrapped around his lungs, choking him. He couldn't do this in front of Alexander - not when the man's boyfriend was inside the hall with everything James had ever wanted. 

"Fine." Within seconds he was left alone in the dark of the closet. His robe sleeves grew slowly damper.

 

 

V. MINISTRY

In the chill of the Ministry foyer, James was obscenely glad for his thick fur lined robes. Hurrying away to the Wizengamot courtroom, his destination for the day, he was surprised to hear his name being called - not in the clipped accent he had come to expect of Thomas, but the liquid loops of a man he had long forbidden himself from wanting. 

He stopped and turned, fluidly. There, a few feet from him, was Alexander Hamilton. The redhead looked exhausted, his black robes banded with the blue stripes that indicated a legal assistant. To have risen to an official position so quickly without any connections in government that James knew of - he had to have worked like a dog. (Hypothetically, his brain sneered at him, why do you think hypothetically when you have followed his career from afar this whole time, watching while he burned himself out on his own fuel like a comet streaking across the sky, illuminating all he met even as his heat pushed them away - and oh, his poor poor boyfriend-)

James shook himself. He was beyond foolish metaphor. Also, he had missed what the other man was saying. Damn. 

"I beg your pardon?"

Hamilton eyed him with some small amusement creeping in the corner of his eye. 

"I asked if you wanted to get something to drink with me sometime. Or dinner, maybe. You know, if you want."

HIs world stopped. His heart exploded. Did he? Yes of course he did, it was what he had wanted all these years ever since quicksilver eyes had pinned him in place one winters morning in the library. The words were out his mouth before he really heard them.

"I think that we could make that happen."

 

VI. AND ONE TIME JAMES SURPRISED ALEX IN RETURN

"Alex." James whispered, one cold, cold tuesday in May, at around three thirty in the morning. They had stopped working an hour previous.

"Yeah?" His parter whispered back. 

"You know I love you, right?" he murmured into the still air. 

"Yeah." He hummed back. "And I love you too, which you must be well aware of by now."

He would have to bite the bullet. Alex never was one for beating round the bush.

"Do you want to get married?"

The redhead rolled over so fast he got tangled in the sheets. The dim lighting in the room shone off the simple gold band being offered to him by his sleepy lover. He couldn't breathe, the air suddenly electric. Those violet eyes studied his face intently. He broke into a smile, cracking through every mask he had ever erected.

"It only took you five years."

James slid the ring on. It was a perfect fit.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is a little too gap filled perhaps and I may go back later to edit it and/or I might write Alex's story, because James had a certain narration style that stops him from seeing a whole lot of little things. 
> 
> Aozora no Shita I am orry there isn't so much fluff! But I am not terribly good that that haha. I hope that you like this anyway, thank you for such a lovely prompt.
> 
> Please leave comments and Kudos if you think the story is worth it!
> 
> You can see me on my tumblr too - classicalcassiopeia


End file.
